


a home is where the heart is

by logicalspecs



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Gen, anyone who disagrees can meet me in the pit, john deacon deserves the entire world, let the boy eat his cheese toast, okay but dry ramen is lit, roger taylor is a hot mess but i still love him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-20 20:24:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17029416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/logicalspecs/pseuds/logicalspecs
Summary: Brian and Roger finally decided to open their home to two more housemates, first an art student with an ambition to try all kinds of new foods, and then an electrical engineer with a knack for cheese on toast.(modern college au)





	a home is where the heart is

**Author's Note:**

> this was originally posted on tumblr,, @ eveningmercury hit me up with requests :)

“Good morning, Brian,” John greeted pleasantly, looking at the astrophysics student over the rim of his coffee mug. “I made breakfast, if you're hungry. Plates are in the box on the counter, forks and knives are by the fridge.”

Brian nodded in response, setting the textbook he'd been carrying on the table before heading over to the stove to see what the bassist had cooked up. The frying pan held a handful of sausages, a few strips of bacon, and a couple of eggs, over-easy.

Nothing that really appealed to him, if he was honest. But he didn't want to hurt his new housemates feelings, so he scooped an egg onto his plate, one of the somewhat tacky white ones with the green trim that Freddie had brought when he had moved in with him and Roger.

As he stared into the barren abyss that was their fridge, Brian made a mental note to buy some fruit the next time he went to the store. 

“Is that all you're going to have? Don't worry about the others, I can make more if there's not enough.” John looked despairingly at Brian's practically empty plate, his gaze carefully avoiding Brian's eyes. 

“Oh, no, John, it's fine,” he hesitated, though he wasn't sure why. He wasn't ashamed, not at all, yet he was still hesitant. 

“It's just, well,” John looked at him encouragingly. “I'm a vegetarian,” He finished, looking up from his plate to gauge the younger man's reaction.

John's mouth formed a soft 'oh' as he glanced at the breakfast he'd made.

“I'm sorry, Brian, I had no idea,” He chuckled nervously. “I'll keep that in mind for next time.”

John smiled at him, and Brian couldn't help but smile back.

“Thanks, John.”

He had a feeling they were going to get along swell.

~

Brian woke one night to the sound of a package being torn open.

He peeled his eyes open to find himself seated a the kitchen table, his face pasted to a research paper (he was too out of it to remember what on earth the paper was about- something to do with Zodiacal light). He must have fallen asleep writing. The ache in his neck and back affirmed his suspicions.

The crinkling sound of the package had stopped and was soon replaced by the sound of someone opening and closing the kitchen cupboards in search of some elusive object.

He finally lifted his head from the table and found himself looking at a manic Freddie. His black hair was pulled out of his eyes with and elastic band, and that worried Brian more than anything so far. Freddie never tied his hair up, and he would certainly never use some random elastic that would knot and rip his hair as soon as he tried to take it out.

The unusual choice of hair tie quickly slipped from Brian's thoughts as Freddie apparently found what he was looking for: a Ziploc bag. The design student let out a quiet 'Aha!' and stood up to grab whatever package he had been opening earlier, not even bothering to close the cupboard.

Freddie dumped the contents of the package into his bag, humming softly. The mysterious item was ramen, Brian realized, and he quirked his head. What the hell was Freddie doing with dry ramen and a Ziploc bag?

He settled on it being some weird art thing.

His hypothesis was soon proven wrong, however, as Freddie dumped the entirety of the seasoning packet that came with the ramen into his bag, crunched it all up, scooped up a handful of the mixture, and shoved it into his mouth, chewing obnoxiously.

“What the hell are you eating, Fred?” Brian asked, unable to keep quiet any longer.

Freddie jumped, holding the bag to his chest as if it would protect him from whatever nocturnal creature he thought stalked the dimly lit kitchen. His stance shifted from one of pure terror to utter relief, albeit angry, as he laid eyes on Brian at the table.

“Jesus Christ, Brian, don't scare me like that! What are you doing up so late?” he cursed, picking up a pencil that had fallen from where it had been tucked behind his ear.

“What are you eating?” Brian repeated, ignoring the question, his eyes still trained on the concoction in Freddie's hands.

“Pasta,” the design student said simply, holding up the bag and shaking it like it was some cat toy and Brian was the cat.

Too tired to argue, Brian merely stared at his housemate in utter horror, hoping that this was all a fever dream and Freddie wasn't actually going to voluntarily put that stuff in his body.

“Well, as fun as this has been, I have work I need to finish, so, goodnight, darling.” Freddie offered him a tight-lipped smile before grabbing another fistful of the dry ramen and shoveling into his mouth.

Brian could only watch as Freddie walked away, his crunching disappearing down the hall.

~

Freddie sat on the edge of the kitchen counter, smearing an unsavory amount of honey on a piece of toast. John glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, cringing slightly at the amount of sweetness the artist was tainting the poor bread with.

“How much honey are you going to put on that thing, Fred?” He asked, taking a bit of his own slice of toast.

Freddie shrugged, sending him a small glare. “As much as I want, dear.”

The bassist rolled his eyes, deciding to drop the subject.

“At least it's not that monstrosity,” Freddie continued, gesturing to John's food with a look of disdain on his face.

“What's so bad about cheese on toast?” John countered, trying not to look too insulted.

“There's nothing wrong with cheese toast, Freddie.” Brian walked into the kitchen, an empty glass of water in one hand and a towel he was using to dry his curls in the other.

Brian's attempt at diffusing the situation proved futile as Roger strolled up next to him, stretching lazily.

“It's just a bit weird, since it's literally all you eat, Deak,” he stated, talking through a yawn.

“It's good!” John insisted, taking another bite to emphasize his point.

“It's cheese on bread!” Freddie exclaimed.

“What, have you never had a cheese toastie?” Brian asked him, looking up from the mail he was sorting at the table. “It's essentially the same thing, just minus one piece of bread.”

“What's a cheese toastie?” Freddie furrowed his brow, his lips curling slightly in disgust.

“Wait, Freddie, you've never had a cheese toastie?” Roger stared at him incredulously.

“I mean, he just learned what ramen was last week,” Brian mused, grimacing as he thought about the singer's latest midnight snack.

“God, Fred, what kind of childhood did you have?” Roger stared at the man in question, who in turn sent him a glare icy enough to send a chill down the drummer's spine.

Brian elbowed him in the side, sending the blond another glare, urging him to mutter a quiet, “Sorry.”

John merely took another bite of his toast, before deciding to offer part of the slice to Freddie. 

The dark-haired man looked at the offering, then up at John, then back to John's outstretched hand, before hesitantly grabbing the toast.

He took a small bite, chewing slowly, his dark eyes narrowed in contemplation. 

The other three watched him expectantly, John almost falling off the counter as he leaned closer to see Freddie's reaction.

Freddie said nothing as he gave John his breakfast back.

“So? What do you think?” Roger asked, drumming his fingers in anticipation.

“It's...” Freddie started. Brian gestured for him to continue.

“Plain,” He finished, shrugging slightly.

“Perfect for plain ol' John Deacon, then,” John said, happily shoving the rest of the toast into his mouth.

~

Roger Taylor was stressed.

Probably because the kitchen was on fire.

He swore at the smoke alarm as its incessant beeping alerted the rest of the house to his little incident, which definitely did not include him causing a small fire, then accidentally creating a much bigger fire in an attempt to put it out with the nearest thing to him: a roll of paper towels.

Now, he wasn't an idiot. He knew that putting paper towels on a fire was definitely not a good way to extinguish said thing, but he panicked and just grabbed what was closest to him.

He also didn't get a wink of sleep last night.

“Rog, what the hell did you do?” The voice of one Brian May drew the blond from his shocked stupor.

“I'm making breakfast.” 

“Clearly, you are not.” John's monotone voice was laced with a slight edge of panic.

Brian was the first to move, pulling Roger away from the fire by the shoulders, shoving him at John. He quickly maneuvered himself around the growing flames, ripping open one of the cupboards.

He grabbed a bag of some sort of white powder (silently blessing John Deacon for buying a whole bunch of baking ingredients; apparently it was a side hobby of his, and he made a killer lemon tart), quickly dumping it's contents onto the stove.

The fire was soon extinguished, and Roger pried himself slowly from John's arms, which had been practically strangling him, and he heaved a breath, coughing as he inhaled a large amount of smoke.

“My, sleep in for ten minutes and look at all the fun I missed.”

The three men slowly turned to see Freddie, in all of his bedhead glory, standing in the doorway with a cocky grin.

“I'll order takeout.”

**Author's Note:**

> i will defend uncooked ramen till the day i die


End file.
